


Whatever It's Called

by alianovna_grant



Series: This Feeling [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Captasha - Freeform, F/M, Ficlet, First Meetings, Fluff, Steve POV, Tumblr Prompts, again super hella fluff, answered prompts, au prompts, capwidow - Freeform, romanogers - Freeform, stevenat - Freeform, strangers on a train
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-18 22:23:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7333036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alianovna_grant/pseuds/alianovna_grant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'you fell asleep on me on the train and I kinda dig it’ au Tumblr prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whatever It's Called

**Author's Note:**

> Self imposed prompt. I wrote this in between episodes of Daredevil for stress management purposes. 
> 
> Taken from this list (http://one-heck-of-a-guy-amiright.tumblr.com/post/145121075553/fic-ideasprompts) again. 
> 
> All the fluff and cheese! 
> 
> Unbeta'd (may have, will have mistakes but I've edited some punctuation errors from my original Tumblr post), comments and suggestions are highly appreciated.
> 
> Enjoy!

_“Call us when you get here and we’ll pick you up from the station, man.”_

_“Sure thing.”_

He ends the call with Bucky and puts his phone back in his pocket while maneuvering himself from passengers settling in on their seats. Despite the fact that it was the last train for the night, the car was bustling with people and most of the seats were filled up. They were probably just like him, folks straight from work who wanted to get a head start on their weekend plans. He spots a couple of empty seats at the farthest corner and makes his way towards it, steering himself around passengers hefting their luggage overhead. He stops a couple of times even though he was finding it hard to squeeze himself between people to help a girl and an old man with their belongings but he manages to reach the seat he’s had his eye on without any complications.  

The first thing he notices is a shock of color-- _red_ , a pleasant reprieve from the monotonous gray and fluorescent white of the train’s interiors. His vision floods with the hue. The second thing he notices is that the seats weren’t quite as unoccupied as he previously believed.

The person was sitting on the window seat, back hunched over, completely engrossed over _something_. He couldn’t tell what. It was probably the reason why he didn’t see the person from his vantage from before but he could definitely tell now that his seatmate was a woman. He couldn’t see her face as it was curtained by her hair- the vibrant shade of red he first noticed which was more auburn than strawberry upon closer inspection. He suddenly wonders if it was natural because he’d never seen anything so rich.

“Oh, uh, hi,” he stammers, recognizing he spent way too much time just standing there, his manners pushing him to speak.

It takes her a moment to pry her attention from what she was reading which he quickly catalogs as some sort of paperback. She looks up at him, eyes dazed and a little keyed up.

“Yeah?” she asks on a breath, her attention still clearly fixed on her book. He couldn’t help but notice _again_. This time it was her eyes and that they were blue. No, not quite blue, it had some green in it as well, the colors melding together to form some peculiar shade he couldn’t name.   

“I was just wondering if this seat’s taken?” he asks, not wanting to be presumptuous.

“Ah no, go ahead,” she says in a rush, her attention drifting back to whatever it was that had her so captivated.  

He plants himself next to her, careful not to bump her arm and disturb her because of his large frame. She was so small compared to him, barely filling out the seat she was occupying, but there was just something formidable about the way she projected herself even in such a vulnerable position. It almost felt like him being there was an intrusion. It was kind of intimidating.

He shoves his silly thoughts aside and decides it would be a good idea to get some sleep while he could. He knew once he got to his destination that it was probably going to be full steam ahead. His college buddies tended to pull out all the stops whenever they had these get-togethers. It’s become harder and harder to schedule these things since their graduation a few years ago due to their busy lives that these mini reunions have sort of become a big deal. _A huge deal_. They’ve become _events_ , each of his friends trying to outdo the last one. Bucky and Sam were the worst of the bunch and he had a feeling that with them taking the helm for this weekend’s activities, things will probably get pretty crazy.

But he couldn’t sleep.

He couldn’t still his mind enough to relax and let go. He was thinking about work, about his deadlines, if he left anything important back in his apartment, if maybe he forgot about turning off the coffee maker and so on and so forth, an endless stream of things he should probably be tuning out. But mostly it was the way she smelled that kept him from nodding off. Every time she would shift in her seat or part her hair he would get a whiff of her scent. It was floral, maybe rose, with something spicy thrown in and it was pleasant and distracting.

He fishes out his tablet from his bag and finally gives up on sleep deciding that it would be more productive to at least look over some things that didn’t get quite squared away at work. They were designs his juniors had sent for him to assess. He wasn’t always such a workaholic, but the promotion was so unexpected and he was incredibly grateful for it and he wanted to prove that he deserved to be a senior manager. He looked at the designs, beginning to engross himself with the task until he hears her let out an audible gasp that grabs his attention. He quickly turns his head to see what that was about, confused and slightly concerned. Their eyes suddenly meet.

The first thing he registers is the smirk on her face, a self-deprecating thing that set her face aglow. She lets out a chuckle, a soft one at first that gradually becomes a full on laughing fit that had her in stitches. The sound was full and hearty and it takes him completely by surprise. He couldn’t help it, couldn’t help but get drawn to her laugh because it felt like it was a long time coming. Like she wasn’t the kind of person who gave in to such hysterics and she had him laughing right along with her, because he couldn’t help himself.

“Shit,” she blurts out, the residual effects of her laughing fit coloring her voice leaving it high pitched and breathy.

“Well that was embarrassing. Guess that is the first and last time I read a true crime novel in public,” she adds with a reticent smile as she wipes the tears forming at the corner of her eyes. She closes the book, shoving it inside her bag as if she’s had enough.

His face hurt from smiling, still very much confused at what just happened. His own stomach was aching from laughing so hard that he only succeeds at giving her a shrug.

“Sorry about that, I don’t usually act crazy in trains. Maybe planes, definitely in automobiles, but never in trains,” bringing her palm to her forehead as if finally realizing how humiliating the whole ordeal was. 

He looks at her now, really looks at her and he registers her eyes, so much brighter up close and a little wild from exertion and embarrassment. Her cheeks were flushed, a pretty pink that contrasted with her creamy skin and he immediately thinks what a sight she was at that moment, all the different colors merging in her features to paint a brilliant picture. A _beautiful_ picture.

 “Don’t worry about it,” he tells her, “We all have our moments in public transportation.” He didn’t know where that came from but it felt like it was imperative to make her feel better about the situation. 

“Really?” she deadpans, and he chuckles at her reaction.

“Yeah, just last week I accidentally groped a man on the subway when I got shoved by a group of teenagers,” he says matter-of-factly. He was sure this wasn’t something you shared with strangers but what the hell, it was a funny story and he wanted to hear her laugh again.

“Well, that doesn’t seem to be too distressing. That happens to a lot of people but I do have feeling there’s something more to the story?” she asks, visibly intrigued and a little amused.

“He was a plumber,” he recounts, the memories of the incident come flooding back to him in a loop like some busted tape. He immediately regrets this decision. “Well I assumed, from the work shirt and the toolkit and the uh…” he couldn’t even finish telling it.

“The low rise pants?” she supplies with a grin, clearly interested at where his story was heading.

“Something like that.”

She doesn’t say anything for a while, probably imagining how the story plays out and he could feel his cheeks flame at how positively foolish he made himself look in the span of a few minutes talking to her. _Typical_. Bucky would most definitely laugh his ass off if he got wind of this little tale.

She finally speaks after a beat. “I am visualizing so many inappropriate things right now and I am afraid to know how this story ends,” she snorts, “No, not going there.” She was grinning now, he could tell she was trying to hold back her laughter. He smiles at this. She was really cute.

“Thank you for not asking and I give you permission to fill in the blanks.” He pauses to take in her laughter again. He couldn’t get enough of it. “So I guess laughing hysterically on the train isn’t really so bad.”

She looks at him intently, her lips forming a smirk. “Well, if you put it that way, I respectfully concede…” her eyebrows raised in question. She was asking him for his name.

“It’s Steve.”

“Okay Steve, groping plumbers in the subway, definitely worse. I’m Natasha by the way, since I feel like we should probably know each other’s names at this point of our mutual shame sharing,” she jokes.

“Natasha.” He repeats. It was a beautiful name and he thought of how fitting it was.

“But really, I just wanted to apologize if I bothered you or _am_ bothering you. I don’t usually do this.”

“What do you mean?”

“Talk to strangers.” She said this like it was the funniest thing.  

“Yes, there are very important accounts and arguments to be made supporting stranger danger,” he adds, like a dork.

“Exactly. But I am very grateful for having you as a seatmate, some people wouldn’t have been very _forgiving_ , or _accepting_ , or _generous_ with their stories.”

“Well, I don’t usually do this too. You know, I don’t want to make a habit of telling relative strangers embarrassing events in my life.” He explains, and he’s pleasantly surprised at how easy it was to talk to her.

“So, I guess, always a first time for everything, huh Steve?” she probes him, and he could tell that she probably felt the same ease between them. He was just about to agree when the elderly lady seated across the aisle speaks.

 “Um excuse me, I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you two looked together. You make a very good looking couple,” she declares. She was probably in her late sixties, her hair more white than brown, the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth were apparent but her eyes were lively and kind.

“I uh, we’re not-”

“Thank you.” Natasha says cheerily, her words cutting him off. He could feel her snake her arm around his, and he feels a jolt at the sudden contact.

“You know me and my husband,” she starts, glancing at the man sleeping beside her “we met in Grand Central on the day of the moon landing.” She recalls with a smile on her face. “I was heading home after work and this stranger just begins to talk to me so eagerly telling me how excited he was to see it on TV. I thought it was so strange that we would just talk to me like that but when I saw how genuinely enthusiastic he was, I couldn’t help but listen and we’ve been together ever since. ” She was beaming now, her face lit up with joy and affection.  

“Don’t know if it was fate or destiny or whatever it is you kids like to call it now, but I guess there’s just something about trains…” her voice drifting off. “Well I guess I’ll leave you two alone now, have a good night.” She winks at them and proceeds to close her eyes huddling to her husband.

The both of them share a look and they both start to snicker like a couple of teenagers on the verge of being caught in a lie.

“What was that for? Why didn’t you?-”

“As you can see it was easier to just go along with it. It would’ve been way harder to explain and besides she seemed so happy telling her story,” she explains with a grin.

“Point taken.” He could still feel her arm around him and he wonders when she will realize that she was still holding onto him and for some reason he doesn’t want her to let go.

They talk some more, they talk about work and their lives. They talk about senseless things, they talk about where they’re headed for the weekend. Apparently she was visiting her brother and his family in the suburbs. He learns that she works for a tech company and that she’s ridiculously smart. They talk and talk and it almost feels absurd at how easy all of this was. It was a little weird to be honest, but he wasn’t one for questioning things, especially when they were good because he _feels_ , no he was _certain_ that what was happening was a _good_ thing.

Their conversation begins to wind down, and he could feel that he was just a few minutes away from falling asleep. After a significant pause from Natasha he realizes that she’s beat him to it and he can’t help but notice that she has her head resting on his shoulder. He debates with himself whether or not this was a good idea but he ultimately decides that it was better to just let her rest, it wasn’t because he liked her weight against him or how he liked how she smelled with her this close. _It was definitely not that._

It takes only a few more minutes before he finally succumbs to sleep, and the last thing he has on his mind was what the woman had said. About fate, or destiny, or whatever it was now called and he smiles at that as he burrows his nose in her hair.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you're interested, drop me a prompt at alianovna-grant.tumblr.com (can't promise I can do it right away but I always try my best to do all of them!)


End file.
